No one could say how a mother was meant to face something like this.
Though merely a servant, Nanny Qin had raised Crown Prince Li with her own two hands, and had long since come to love and care for him as if he were her own child.
For over twenty years, every single day, she had lived in fear that this day might be the end.
Not living past thirty—that had always been a curse, a daily torment.
After a long moment, the Empress of Dongqin finally composed herself, and looking at Nanny Qin, sobbing uncontrollably, she snapped furiously, “Enough!”
“He deserved to die anyway. His duty was to restore our great Qin—yet look at what he’s done instead! There’s no longer any need for him to exist!”
The Empress of Dongqin rose in fury and stormed off, sleeves sweeping behind her, refusing to dwell on it any further. What truly pained her wasn’t this son at all, but her chosen heir, Xuanyuan Zhaoxi.
Seeing Nanny Qin cry only stoked her already simmering irritation further. Reaching the door, she turned and issued a cold warning, “Don’t let me see you crying again, or you’re out.”
With that, she left without a backward glance. Nanny Qin wiped away her old tears, both furious and grief-stricken, unable to stop the tears from falling, shaking her head over and over. “No! It can’t be! The crown prince must still be alive, he must still be alive!”
She tucked the secret of the totem away and rose to leave.
She had to search—even if all she found was a body, she had to find the crown prince, no matter what!
“Nanny Qin, where are you going? We’ve searched everywhere already, could His Highness the Crown Prince really have…”
The guard hurried after her, but Nanny Qin cut him off sharply. “No! Absolutely not!”
The guard, though reluctant to press the matter, felt he had to remind her. “Nanny, His Highness disappeared out at sea.”
Those words did give Nanny Qin pause. Even if she wanted to find a body, lost at sea, where would she even begin to look?
“He isn’t dead! Absolutely not!” Nanny Qin shook her head stubbornly. “There are far worse people in this world who haven’t died yet—it can’t possibly be Crown Prince Li’s turn!”
She kept shaking her head like a woman possessed, muttering to herself, then suddenly looked up sharply at the guard. The guard felt a flicker of real worry now—that the old nanny might grieve herself into madness.
“I’m going to find her—she’ll know!” Nanny Qin exclaimed suddenly.
“Who?” the guard asked, confused.
“Han Ziqing! I’m going to find her—she was on the ship too, she must know!” Nanny Qin said, and immediately turned to leave!
She wasn’t mad yet—she couldn’t afford to go mad, not until she found the crown prince!
She still had enough sense left to know she couldn’t go to Jun Beiyue—she could only seek out Han Ziqing privately, even if it meant begging her, just to find out the truth of what had happened!
Nanny Qin was certain she hadn’t misjudged—there was still some bond, some sentiment, between Princess Consort Yao and the crown prince!
Meanwhile, Ziqing and Situ Haonan were still on the road. Three days and three nights without rest for either of them, though the horses at least needed some.
They’d changed horses at a relay station and were about to have their evening meal.
“Past the next town, there are three of Situ City’s mountain estates. Not many troops there, but every one of them is a master fighter—worth more than an entire army,” Situ Haonan said seriously, having finally settled back into something like his usual self.
“Situ Mountain Estate…” Ziqing hesitated, about to say something.
“Doesn’t matter—those three estates belong to me anyway.”
“Just those three?”
Situ Haonan gave Ziqing a helpless glance, then explained, “I grew up at my maternal grandfather’s estate on the western frontier. My grandfather doted on me, so he had my parents formally assign those three mountain estates in Xijing under my management.”
A hint of mischief flickered in Ziqing’s eyes. “Your grandfather—still alive?”
Passing through Situ City earlier, she’d heard Situ Haonan mention bits of his upbringing—precisely because he’d been sent off to Xijing to be raised from a young age, he’d never grown close to his own parents, but had bonded closely with his grandfather instead.
“Of course! Just don’t get any ideas about him—he lives in the northwest of Xijing, practically within the borders of the northern steppe!” Situ Haonan said hastily.
“The northern steppe, huh…” Ziqing genuinely gave up on the thought there. She knew the northern steppe well enough—it sat right at the border between the Huns and Xiliang, and it was precisely because of the northern steppe people that peace had held along that border for so long.
The northern steppe people were a blend of Xiliang and Hun bloodlines. To both Xiliang and the Huns, who placed such heavy weight on bloodline and clan, the northern steppe people counted as kin of their own—neither side would casually disturb that peace. Xijing, too, wisely refrained from interfering there. It was a no-man’s-land of sorts, and remarkably peaceful because of it.
“Don’t even think about it,” Situ Haonan warned.
Though if the strength of the martial world were ever brought to bear on this war, it would undoubtedly be a powerful boost.
But he had no wish to disturb his grandfather’s peace for the sake of his own troubles, and even less did he want to drag the northern steppe into any of this—the risk was simply too great.
At the very least, given Da Zhou’s current strength, provoking the Huns anywhere near the western frontier was absolutely out of the question.
“I wasn’t thinking about it!” Ziqing laughed. “I was just thinking, if I ever get the chance, I’d love to visit the northern steppe someday—that’s the one truly peaceful place left.”
Nanzhao’s peace was a peace built on secrets, an enforced peace.
The northern steppe’s peace, by contrast, was a peace both peoples had chosen willingly, with open hearts.
“I’ve been there. In about a month, actually, it’ll be the northern steppe people’s Bonfire Festival—it’s basically their equivalent of our Lunar New Year, except even livelier,” Situ Haonan said.
Ziqing listened as she packed up their things to leave—they couldn’t afford to waste much more time.
“Once this war’s over, I’ll take you and Qianqian to see it?” Situ Haonan said—ever the optimist, apparently already certain he’d win this war, even though Yelu Qianqian hadn’t even been found yet.
“You take Qianqian,” Ziqing said with a smile, turning to walk on. Once the fighting was done, she fully intended to race straight back to the northern frontier—even after just a few days apart, she still hadn’t gotten used to being without Jun Beiyue by her side, especially at night. No matter how safe a place was, it always felt a little dangerous, a little short on that sense of security.
Situ Haonan hurried to follow, but the moment they stepped out of the inn, they immediately spotted a large group of people outside the door—and leading them was a girl both of them knew all too well: Situ Xin’er!
Compared to Xuanyuan Zhaoxi or Chu Feiyan, the person Ziqing despised most was, without question, this girl—whether because of her connection to Jun Beiyue, or simply because of Situ Xin’er’s spoiled, entitled temper, Ziqing had no wish to even look at her twice.
“I’ll wait for you at the city gate,” Ziqing said flatly, turning to slip away to one side.
“Stop right there!” Situ Xin’er called out coldly.
Ziqing ignored her and kept walking. Situ Xin’er’s voice rose louder. “Han Ziqing, can’t you understand plain speech?”
Ziqing still didn’t respond. Situ Xin’er’s guards, sensibly enough, didn’t dare stop her—but Situ Xin’er shouted sharply, “Han Ziqing, if you dare take one more step, you’ll never see my brother again!”
At those words, Ziqing froze in her tracks. Sometimes, when a dog bites you, you can’t bite back—but you absolutely have to strike back some other way.
She turned slowly, her tone icy. “Situ Xin’er, as the lady of this household, I’m warning you—get out of Da Zhou immediately, or face the consequences yourself.”